An Unnamed Denial
by Electric Light Shadow Boxer
Summary: The fifth in the Unnamed series. After the Bank Shot Job Eliot takes Nathan home to care for him but things don’t go as planned and unforeseen complications ensue. Contains explicit M/M. You've been warned!


TITLE: An Unnamed Denial

AUTHOR: Electric Light Shadowboxer

RATING: NC17

CATEGORY: Slash

PAIRING: Nate/Eliot

DISCLAIMER: I do not own, nor am I associated with Leverage. No copyright infringement intended. This little piece of insanity was written for fun, not profit. I make no money. Literally.

SUMMARY: The fifth in the Unnamed series. After the Bank Shot Job Eliot takes Nathan home to care for him but things don't go as planned and unforeseen complications ensue.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Takes place after The Bank Shot Job and contains slight spoilers. Note that this series follows the order of episodes on the season 1 DVD's instead of actual broadcast order. **Contains explicit M/M action. Don't read if you're offended.**

They'd ditched the ambulance and picked up the van as soon as they'd gotten past the county line. The air conditioner was chuffing along, trying to battle the heat that was pressing against them like a moist blanket. Outside the sun baked the southern desert landscape causing waves to come off the pavement, making the road shimmer before them.

Eliot pressed himself into the side of the van a little more as he leaned up to look at Nate sitting in the front seat next to Hardison. Usually Nate sat in the back with either Parker or Sophie sitting in the front, but they'd decided that the front seat would provide more support to Nate's injured shoulder. There was a red flush covering Nathan's nose and cheeks and he hoped it was just the harsh sunlight and not a fever that lent the blush to Nathan's skin. Eliot frowned as he noticed sweat coating his forehead and upper lip. He was up front, next to the vents, he shouldn't be that hot.

Eliot sighed and rubbed at his eyes; at least Nate was sleeping. That was good; he needed rest.

Eliot let his own eyes close a moment and tried to roll some of the tension out of his shoulders. It had been a long two weeks in Juan and Eliot's nerves were about shot. It had been two weeks of keeping his distance from Nathan, of lying in bed, wondering what Nate was up to in his room. Was he passed out unconscious? Was he still breathing? Had he decided not to honor his promise to wait a month? It drove him fucking crazy.

It had only been about three weeks since the night that Eliot had extracted the promise from Nathan, and while he thought he was doing better, he didn't want to take any chances. So yeah, he wanted nothing more than to get home and tuck Nathan in bed, make sure his shoulder was doing okay. He was damn lucky the bullet had missed his joint. A physical disability on top of everything else was not what Nate needed.

He looked across the van where Sophie was asleep, leaning up against Parker's shoulder. Parker had her eyes closed but he wasn't sure she was sleeping. With parker it was hard to tell. Eliot leaned forward and grabbed on to the back of Hardison's seat, keeping his voice pitched low so he wouldn't wake anyone. "Hey, Hardison."

Hardison met the hitter's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Hey what?"

He shifted his eyes quickly to Nate to make sure he was still sleeping. "You saw the footage of what happened in the bank right?"

Hardison nodded his head but kept his eyes on the road in front of him. "Yeah, I doctored the tape to match our story."

"What did the shooting look like?"

Hardison looked up into the rearview mirror, brows drawn low over his eyes. "Man, I know you're into all this violence stuff but I gotta tell you, wanting me to describe Nate's shooting is freaky, even for you."

Eliot growled and scowled up at Hardison's reflection. "I mean, did it look like an accident or was Nate being unnecessarily careless?"

Hardison frowned. "Nah, man, he was standing there when Judge Blowhard jumped the kid for the gun. It went off and Nate just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why? What'd you think happened?"

Eliot chewed on the inside of his lip. "Nothing." He glanced over at Nathan, once again noticing the sweat on his face; he leaned over and put a gentle hand to his cheek and forehead. "Damn, I think he's running a fever."

Hardison glanced to the passenger seat quickly before turning back to the road. "It's too quick to be an infection from the wound isn't it?"

Eliot pulled a hand down his face and shook his head. "It's probably a combination of exhaustion and trauma. He's sweating so hopefully it's broken and that'll be it." He looked at the clock in the dash of the van. "How much longer until we hit the city, man?"

"Probably a couple hours. You need me to stop?"

"Nah. Let him sleep. It'll do him more good than me poking and prodding him at this point."

* * *

Nathan looked up at Eliot's building from inside the cab. It had been one hell of a task convincing Sophie that he didn't need her to come home with him. So instead of riding home with Eliot like he'd wanted to, he'd ended up taking a cab instead. He knew that his refusal of her help had hurt her, but he just wanted to be in Eliot's arms tonight. It'd been two weeks and it had sorely tested his will power.

He watched as Eliot stepped out of the shadows that pooled around the entrance of the building and came forward to open the cab door and help him out.

Eliot got Nate standing more or less vertical, and leaned through the front window to pay the cabbie. "Thanks, man."

The cabbie pulled away and Eliot turned back to Nate, taking in his skin tone. The fever seemed to have faded and he let out a small breath. "Do you need help?"

Nathan shook his head and started toward the building. In truth his shoulder was pounding to beat the dead. His whole arm, down to his fingertips throbbed in sympathy and it felt like his head was going to join the chorus any minute. He made it up the stairs, Eliot hovering behind him, close enough he could almost feel the heat radiating off the other man. When he lost his balance on the stair, tipping backwards, strong arms slid around his middle, supporting and guiding him the rest of the way up. The lingering effects of the morphine and having his arm bound up in the impromptu sling made it difficult to balance.

Eliot opened the door into their apartment and helped Nathan across. He stopped when Nathan tried to go toward the kitchen while Eliot was trying to lead him to the bedroom. "Nate, where are you going? Come on, you need to get to bed and rest that shoulder."

"Yeah, yeah, I will in a minute. Just let me get something from the kitchen." He tried to start one more time for the kitchen.

Eliot kept his grip on Nathan's waist and good shoulder. "No. You don't need alcohol, Nate. You've had pain medication."

Nathan blinked at him a minute. "I'd rather have the alcohol."

"Yeah, well, you've had morphine so you ain't getting any alcohol." He steered the other man into the bedroom and helped him remove the pillowcase doubling as a sling, taking care to ease his arm down so he wouldn't be forced to bear the weight. He helped Nathan divest himself of his clothes and eased him back in the bed, pillow positioned to cradle his arm and support his shoulder. "You need some water or anything?"

Nathan shook his head, wincing as the motion pulled on his shoulder. "You coming to bed?"

Eliot nodded and stood up. "Yeah, I'll be back in a minute. I've got to set the security up for the night. "You sure you don't want anything?"

Nathan grinned up at him, shoulder be damned. It'd been two weeks. "You."

Eliot smirked and patted Nathan's leg. "Ease down there, cowboy. I don't think your shoulder will stand for much but I'll see if we can't work something out."

* * *

The next morning, Nathan lay with his head on the back of the couch, listening to the soft sounds of the radio coming from the bathroom as Eliot showered. Normally, he would have enjoyed joining Eliot in the shower, but because of the through and through in his shoulder he was going to have to avoid spending extended periods of time in water for a while. He lay there listening to Eliot sing along with the radio and grinned. Eliot had a nice voice but the only time he'd ever use it was in the shower. Nathan suspected he only did it then because he wasn't aware that Nathan could hear him.

He brought the glass up to his mouth and took a sip, feeling the ache in his muscles burn away with the whiskey. He heard the shower shut off and smiled, imagined licking the beading water off of his lover's chest and stomach. He felt his cock starting to stir and transferred the glass to his bad hand before reaching down to adjust himself. Maybe they needed to spend more time apart. It certainly seemed to be doing wonders for his libido.

On the table his cell phone started vibrating and he glared at it. Whatever it was he didn't want to know. He wanted to spend a quiet day at home with Eliot, preferably in bed. Nathan grunted at the twinge of pain in his shoulder as he leaned forward from the too soft cushions on the couch and reached for his cell phone. He looked at the number on the display before connecting the call. "Paul, what's up?"

A hand came down on his good shoulder and Nate jumped, dropping the phone. "Jesus, Eliot."

Eliot frowned and mouthed. "Who's on the phone?"

"Paul." He grabbed the phone from where it had fallen in his lap. "Paul, sorry. What's going on? Uh huh, yeah, well, let me ask Eliot."

He pulled the phone down from his ear and glanced up at Eliot. "Paul wants to know if we'd like to grab some lunch."

Eliot frowned. In the time that he'd met the priest he'd actually found that he liked Paul, despite his feelings toward religion and the men who served it. He nodded and held out his hand for the phone. "Hey, Paul, yeah, well . . ."

Nathan strained to hear what Eliot said as he walked back into the bedroom with the phone. He was getting a little tired of Eliot treating him like an invalid, all kid gloves, like he might break apart if the wrong word was said. Though, he guessed he deserved it. It felt a bit like his parents sending him up to his room in order to talk in private about stuff he was too young to understand.

He eased himself off the couch and winced as a barb of pain lanced its way down to his fingertips and up through his jaw. He grabbed the glass sitting on the coffee table and made his way back to the kitchen.

Eliot came out of the bedroom, already having hung up, and frowned as he followed Nate into the kitchen. He stopped at the bar and watched as Nathan poured the amber liquid into his glass from the green bottle from the pantry. He pulled his hand down his face and felt his eyebrows climbing toward his hair line. "Nate, I gave you a pain pill just a little while ago. You shouldn't be drinking."

Nate turned around, caught off guard by Eliot's return. He had the grace to look sheepish as he capped the bottle and put it back in the pantry. "Yeah, well, it's been a while, right?"

Eliot sighed and worked on not losing his patience. The worry he'd been feeling over the last several weeks had not diminished. In fact, the last couple of weeks had exacerbated it. All the tension and worry was only making him more irritable. He wanted to wrap Nate up in cotton and protect him from the damage he was inflicting on himself.

When he'd heard from Hardison that Nate had been shot he'd felt so helpless. There Nate was, stuck in a bank, hurt, bleeding, maybe dying, while he was out in the middle of nowhere waiting for a bunch of fucking meth heads. Eliot didn't do helpless well. In fact, he did everything in his power so he'd never have to feel that way again. He'd never been so glad to kick some ass in his life.

"Nate . . ." He trailed off at the other man's raised eyebrows. "Look, I don't normally say anything but you should not be drinking on top of the pain medication."

Nate looked down at his glass and then back up at Eliot. He swallowed and shrugged. "I'm fine, Eliot. I can tell when I've had enough."

Eliot stared at him, scowling. "Can you?"

Nathan huffed and took a sip from his glass. "So, it's not like I really got the chance to talk to Paul," He glared at Eliot over the rim of his glass. "What did he have to say? Are we going out to lunch?"

Eliot shook his head and sighed. It was like talking to a brick wall. He walked over and took the glass from Nate, setting it on a counter before turning back and securing his injured arm in the sling he'd brought out of the bedroom. "Here, I found this early this morning. You shouldn't be up moving around without that shoulder supported."

Nate rolled his eyes but let Eliot finish adjusting the sling before he stepped around him to pick up his glass. "What did Paul say, Eliot?"

Eliot turned and watched Nate take another drink before shaking his head and pulling his hair back. He reached into his pocket for a hair elastic. He thought about taking the alcohol away but didn't feel like going through the argument it would cause. Nate should be fine with the pain medicine he'd given him this morning and the one glass of whiskey. He'd just make sure that Nathan didn't get anymore.

"No. I didn't think you needed to be running around town just yet so he's coming here for lunch." He went around the bar and started pulling out foodstuffs. "Anything in particular you want?"

Nathan stood by the counter and watched as Eliot pulled rice out of the cabinet and vegetables from the fridge. "I'm still full from breakfast."

Eliot snorted as he turned from the crisper and placed zucchini and apples on the counter. "You didn't eat anything for breakfast. You picked at the toast and eggs I brought you. Maybe," He paused and looked at Nate. "Maybe, you ate two bites of toast. You're not full; your stomach is upset because of the alcohol."

Nate shrugged and walked around the cabinet, pulling a stool out and parking himself on it. "What did Paul want to see us about? Is something wrong?"

Eliot finished washing the vegetables and fruit and started chopping the vegetables for sautéing. "Nothing specific. I think he just wants to catch up with us. It's been a couple weeks since he's seen us and I think it makes him a little worried."

Nathan snorted and took another sip of his drink. "Yeah, I think he's adopted us. I told him we weren't members of his parish and he just grinned at me. If you ask me, I think he's out to convert us."

Eliot snorted again and shook his head. "Or maybe he's just a good friend who cares about you." Eliot looked up from his task as Nathan's silence continued. "What? That make you uncomfortable?"

Nathan felt his brow drop in a scowl. "What? No. I just . . . don't want him to get any ideas about us coming to . . ." He broke off a huge yawn breaking free, making his jaws crack and his eyes water. He kept his eyes closed, body still, and a firm grip on the counter.

Eliot looked up and sat the knife down on the chopping board before coming over and snatching the glass from in front of Nathan. "You've had enough." He dumped the whiskey down the kitchen sink much to Nathan's dismay. He stopped and looked at the other man pointedly. "Not a word." Then he turned back to his cutting board and the red peppers.

Nate didn't say anything, just sat watching Eliot cook. For some reason the sight of Eliot in the kitchen, being all domestic, made him want the other man. He licked his lips and stood up off the stool, holding to the counter for a moment to make sure that he had his balance before letting go.

He came up behind Eliot and tried to wrap his arms around Eliot's waist as Eliot was chopping the fruit up into a bowl. He frowned down at the sling getting in his way before snaking his good arm around his lover's waist. He pressed his face into the back of the other man, smelling his freshly shampooed hair. It smelled of Apple and underneath that, the smell of vanilla and leather that was unique to Eliot.

Eliot stilled the knife, taking a moment to let go of the tension at being approached from behind, and leaned back into Nathan a moment. "As good as you feel, I think you need to sit back down before Paul comes. It'd be really awkward if he were to interrupt us."

Nathan buried his nose in the nape of Eliot's neck and bit down lightly, marking him. "We really need to spend some time in the kitchen together."

Eliot laid the knife down and turned, letting Nathan's arm skim his side. He placed his forehead against the other man's, trying to focus his eyes on Nate's. "Yeah we'll have to do that." He craned his neck forward and caught Nathan's lips in his own before pulling back and smacking Nate on the ass. "Now go sit down and quit distracting me so I can finish lunch by the time Paul gets here."

Nate smirked down at Eliot and turned around to go back to his seat, stumbling.

Eliot turned quickly and caught him. "Whoa!" He steadied him and searched his eyes. "Shit, Nate, are you okay?"

Nathan nodded and pulled away, making his way back to the bar. "We could always tell Paul an emergency has come up."

Eliot followed Nate around the bar, steadying hand on his back. He waited until he was parked on the barstool before reaching out and snagging Nate's wrist in his hand.

Nate frowned at him and tried to pull away but stopped when Eliot tightened his grip. "What are you doing?"

Eliot finished checking Nathan's pulse and stood back, hands on hips. "Your pulse is a little slow, your breathing is a little shallow, you're clumsy, and your pupils are constricted. How do you feel?"

Nathan shrugged. "I'm fine. Quit being a mother hen. I don't need you to look after me every second. I actually did just fine before you came along."

Eliot snorted but the humor didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, you were doing a real bang up job there." He looked him over again. "You're not dizzy; feeling like you might pass out, or vomit?"

Nathan shook his head but Eliot watched as he gripped the cabinet a little harder than he needed to, knuckles going white.

"Fuck, Nate." He ran his hand over his face and started for his phone when the door buzzed. He looked back at Nathan and shook his head before heading for the door. He glanced at the monitor to make sure it was Paul before he opened the door.

"Paul." Eliot nodded at the priest and turned away to walk back to Nathan, leaving the priest to close the door behind him.

Paul picked up on the tension in the room immediately and closed the door behind him, looking from one man to the other. "What's going on?"

Eliot was standing in front of Nathan again, arms crossed. "I'm wondering if I'm going to have to take Nate to the hospital to get his stomach pumped."

Nate swallowed and tried to take a deep breath. He didn't bother to raise his head, but he rolled his eyes up so he could look Eliot in the face. "Everything's fine, Paul. Mother Eliot is just being overprotective."

Paul stepped up beside Eliot and dragged his eyes over his old friend, examining him. He didn't like the way Nate looked much less the clumsy cadence with which the words seemed to tumble out of his mouth. His skin was pale and clammy and his iris had nearly eaten up the pupil. He kept his gaze on Nathan but addressed his words to the man standing beside him. "What's happened?"

Eliot growled low in his throat. "Nate, thought it'd be a good idea to mix painkillers and alcohol."

Paul's eyes widened and he looked at the scowl on Eliot's face before turning back to Nate and digging for his phone. "How much did he take?"

Eliot shook his head. "Just what I gave him earlier." He frowned down at Nate. "You didn't take anymore did you?"

Nate wanted to glare up at Eliot but didn't have the energy. "No."

Paul had paused, not actually dialing the emergency number. "Do you think we should take him . . ."

Nathan slid off the stool and tried to brush past the men. "Excuse me."

Eliot grabbed a hold of him, careful of his arm, and stopped him. "Where are you going? You about to be sick?"

"The bedroom. I want to lie down."

Eliot grabbed on to Nate's good arm, slinging it across his shoulder and putting his other arm around his waist. Paul hovered on the other side. Eliot steered Nate to the couch and eased him down on it. "Lie down here. I want you somewhere I can keep an eye on your breathing."

Nate lay down and curled his knees up, eyes closed.

Paul was rubbing at his chin. "You don't think we should take him to a hospital?"

Eliot huffed out a breath and shook his head, eyes staying on the man curled up on the couch, injured arm cradled against his stomach. "I don't think we'll have to. I'll keep an eye on his breathing." He looked up at the priest and shrugged. "Sorry, man. One day we'll have you over here without an emergency."

Paul shook his head and sat down in the armchair. "It's okay. I know things are rough right now." He made sure to stress the right now. He looked at the man standing there, eyes on his partner. He looked haggard, worn down. You could see that the turmoil of the last few months had taken their toll on the younger man.

Eliot nodded, still looking at Nate. He picked his head up quickly, eyes startled. "Aww shit!" He ran to the kitchen and took the vegetables off the heat.

Paul followed him into the kitchen area and watched as Eliot grimaced down at the vegetables. "Don't worry about it, Eliot."

Eliot shook his head before banging the pan down on the stove. "Perfect. That was the last of the zucchini."

Paul felt his lips quirk. When the big things were too big to adequately wrap your mind around, he supposed you had to worry about the small stuff. "I'll tell you what. I'd still like to stick around and talk to you; make sure that Nate's going to be okay. Say I order us some Chinese? That sound good to you?"

Eliot let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling before nodding. "Yeah, that'd be good. We can get some extra rice. Nate will usually eat rice. It's not as hard on his stomach."

Paul laid a hand on Eliot's back and steered him back toward the living room. "Go on back to the living room and sit with Nate while I order. What would you like?"

Eliot shrugged. "Kung Pao chicken is fine for me. Get some Lo Mein and some rice for Nate."

Paul watched as the other man trudged back to the living room and folded himself down onto the floor next to the couch. He pulled out the phonebook on the pretense of looking up a number while surreptitiously watching the scene unfold before him.

Eliot put his hand on Nathan's head, smoothing his hair back from his forehead, eyes concerned, moving from face to chest.

Paul knew that Eliot loved Nate; he'd seen it that first day he came to talk to him. But he was caught off guard at the tenderness and protectiveness with which Eliot handled his old friend. Eliot shifted and Paul quickly pulled out his cell and dialed the number of a good Chinese place nearby.

Once he snapped his phone closed he grabbed a couple beers from the fridge and brought one to Eliot, keeping one for himself. "How's he doing?"

Eliot shook his head, twisting the cap off his beer and taking a long pull. "He's out, but he's still breathing and his pulse is strong. I think he just needs to sleep it off." He scooted around in the floor so that he could keep an eye on Nate and still see Paul.

Paul studied him a moment more, placing his beer on the coffee table. "How are you doing? You look exhausted."

Eliot sighed and shrugged. He wasn't one to share his feelings. He'd always bottled them up until they came out through his fists. But he'd watched what his daddy's fists had done to his momma, to his sisters, and to him, and he didn't want to let his fists do that to Nathan. The problem was, Nathan was frustrating. He'd never met anybody who could make him as angry, or as crazy, as Nate could. But he'd also never met anyone he'd cared for so much.

He'd only raised his hand to Nathan once, when he'd tried to use their relationship as a way to hurt himself. It was as close as he ever wanted to get. He found that talking to Paul helped. Just knowing that there was someone who knew what was going on, who could help if they needed it, was a huge relief. Because the team didn't know, the team couldn't know.

He shrugged again. "It's been a hard couple of weeks. We were on a job and it took forever. It was nerve wracking, not being able to be close to him, to check on him."

Paul nodded. "So you're still keeping this from the rest of the team?"

Eliot nodded and took another draught. "I tried to convince him early on to tell them but he was set on it being a secret."

Paul frowned and peeled at the label on his beer. "You think he's still ashamed?"

Eliot smirked a little. "No. I don't think so. It's just complicated."

"Ahh." Paul nodded. "A woman then."

Eliot looked at the priest and snorted. "Yeah, a woman. Like I said, it's complicated and I do understand where he's coming from, even if I don't agree with the way he's going about it."

There was a buzz at the door and Eliot started up but Paul waved him down. "Don't worry about it. I've got it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, just sit tight."

Eliot watched as Paul headed toward the door before turning back to Nathan and watching his chest rise and fall. Usually when Nate was passed out from drinking a flush rose high on his cheeks, but now he was pale. Eliot reached out and touched Nathan's face, checking to make sure he wasn't cold or clammy.

He turned when Paul returned with the bag of food. They were quiet for a while, sorting food and grabbing chopsticks. Eliot leaned his side against the couch and watched Nathan as he ate.

"So how has Nate been doing? I know on the phone you told me that the shooting was accidental, what happened?"

Eliot stirred the chicken in his box. "He was in the wrong place at the wrong time when a couple of guys were fighting for a gun and it went off. Other than that . . ." He trailed off, sighing unhappily. "He hasn't talked anymore about it and when I ask him he just says he's fine, which for Nate . . ."

Paul nodded. "Yeah, in Nate-Land that could mean anything."

Eliot gave an appreciative laugh, nodding his head. "Yeah." He trailed off, picking at his food before sighing and setting the carton down on the coffee table and pursing his lips. "You know, it's not like he's trying to blow his brains out or jumping from the building, and he hasn't mentioned it again, so I start feeling a little better about it. But then he goes and drinks himself unconscious, he can't keep anything down, and then he goes and does stupid shit like this." He stood and paced over to the brick wall on the far side of the room, jerking the hair band out of his hair in agitation. "And I know, I fucking know that he knows better. What the hell is he thinking? I mean, I have to wonder, is he trying to kill himself? 'Cause, at this point, I just don't know anymore."

Paul sat his food down and gave a sad smile, eyes roaming over his old friend. "Nate's acting like an addict. It's what they do, Eliot." He was quiet a while, gathering his thoughts. "How much do you know about Nate's background?"

Eliot sighed and came back to sit down in the floor again, eyes roaming over his lover. "I know about what happened to Sam. I know he feels guilty. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he feels like because he worked for IYS he was a party to Sam's death."

Paul nodded. "But I mean about his family, about growing up."

Eliot shook his head. It wasn't something they really talked about. Something that, for his own reasons, he didn't want to delve too far into. Hell, before he'd met Paul he hadn't even known that Nate had wanted to be a priest.

Paul picked his food back up and poked at it with the chopsticks. "I know a little, but not everything. Nate was never a big talker but the seminary is a close community. You pick up on things about people pretty quickly." He turned his attention to Nate and smiled a little. "Nate was raised in Boston by his mother and father, and, unfortunately, both his father and his grandfather were alcoholics."

Eliot narrowed his eyes a bit nodding his head. "They say it's passed along the family."

Paul nodded. "Yes, at least part of it is thought to be genetic." He sighed. "There's probably a learned component as well. So when Nate drinks too much or drinks on top of painkillers I don't think he's trying to kill himself. The allure is just too much. He has to have that drink and one is never enough. He may start out thinking he'll just have one. But then it's just one more, then one more. And before he knows it, he's drunk the whole bottle."

Eliot nodded, closed his eyes and put down the food carton. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to chase away the memories crowding in on him. He felt a pressure on his shoulder and jerked, looking up at the priest.

Paul had scooted himself to the edge of his seat so he could reach out to the other man. He gave a kind smile and pulled his hand back. "What is it?"

Eliot shook his head and tried to laugh it off. "Nothing." He stood and walked into the bedroom, leaving Paul and Nathan alone.

Paul heard the water in the pipes and sat back, wondering what had upset the younger man. He continued to nibble at his own food as he watched Nathan's chest rise and fall and waited for Eliot to come back out.

When Eliot emerged, Paul noticed that the hair around the young man's face was damp, as was his collar. He waited until Eliot sat down next to the couch. He watched as the other man turned his attention to his partner, still curled on the couch. Paul was quiet for a while, just observing the two men before him.

"Aren't you going to finish your food?"

Eliot looked up at the priest and shook his head, nose wrinkled a little. "I'm not very hungry."

Paul nodded and let a few moments pass in silence. "What did I say to upset you?"

Eliot sighed, knew from experience that Paul could be relentless. "My daddy was a drunk. A mean drunk." He shrugged and gave a self-depreciating laugh. "Sometimes . . ." He trailed off, staring at the far wall. "Nate is nothing like my daddy was." He turned and gave the priest a hard stare. "Nothing." He ran his hands over his face. "It's the smell. Sometimes the smell of whisky coming off Nathan . . . I have to be very careful to focus on now."

Paul frowned. "Does Nate know this?"

Eliot shook his head, pushing up the sleeve of his flannel shirt. "No. He's got enough stress and the alcohol . . . it complicates things enough without adding my past to it."

Paul shook his head. "This has to be very difficult for you. I can't imagine what it must be like."

Eliot shrugged, a small grin making the corners of his mouth turn up. "It's gotten easier. Just, I don't know, what you said made me think of the past."

Paul nodded, thought that this was something that needed to be addressed further but not now. He could sense the wary intensity coming off Eliot, telegraphing his desire to drop the subject.

He stood and carried his food container into the kitchen and dumped it in the trash before coming back out and standing in front of the two men. "So, you think Nate's going to be okay?"

Eliot nodded and stood. "Yeah, I'm going to continue checking on him but I think he'll be fine."

Paul nodded and held out his hand for the other man to shake. "Well, I need to get going. I have some other things I need to do today." He started toward the door, Eliot trailing him. He stopped just before stepping out the door. "Eliot, if you need anybody to talk to you can give me a call anytime. You know that right?"

Eliot nodded, a little uncomfortable, but grateful for the offer. "Yeah, man, thanks."

Paul nodded and then stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Eliot made sure the door was locked and then turned back to the living room and Nate curled on the couch.

* * *

Nathan stared at the ceiling, trying to work out what the noise was he could hear and why his shoulder, arm, and neck were on fire. He smacked his lips and thought about trying to sit up but when he shifted forward a little his shoulder burst into pain that made him gasp and had him seeing fireworks behind his eyes.

When the pain had receded and he could think again, he noticed the constant thud he'd been hearing had stopped. He licked his lips and opened his eyes. Nate squinted at the figure towering above him, trying to get his brain working again.

Eliot stood next to the couch, hair tied back and bandanna around his head to catch the sweat. Nathan could see the sweat staining the black muscle shirt he had on and looked to confirm that he had his wrists taped. Usually the sight of a sweat drenched Eliot would be enough to get him interested, but just now he couldn't even think in that direction, his body hurt so bad.

Eliot dropped into a squat; arms braced on his knees, and studied Nate as he tried to gather his wits about him. "Nate? You with me?"

Nate started to nod but then stopped and swallowed, panted a moment. "What happened? Why is my shoulder on fire?"

Eliot felt the frown pull his brows down over his eyes, felt his stomach churn with nervous acid. "You got shot, Nate, in Juan. Remember?"

It was Nathan's turn to frown. He licked his lips, heart pounding hard in his chest and head. He felt a trill of fear. "Yeah, yeah, I remember." He grunted. "Help me up, Eliot."

Eliot reached out to support Nathan's shoulder and help pull him upright. He watched Nathan, unsettled by the vagueness in his lover's eyes.

Nathan looked around and noticed it was dark outside. "What time is it?"

Eliot stayed crouched in the floor, still looking Nathan over. He was pale and sweaty, hair going every which way. He was also shaking slightly. He chewed on the inside of his lip, worry and anger making him feel slightly nauseous. "It's almost nine. You've been out almost ten hours."

He watched as Nathan sat there, head in his hands. He wanted to be mad, he really did, but he was so relieved that Nate was awake. Eliot knew they needed to address this, but right now he needed to get Nathan into a shower, see if he couldn't get him to reorient because right now, Nate wasn't with it.

He grabbed Nathan's arm and started trying to get him off the couch. "Come on. You and I both need a shower."

He got Nate's good arm around his shoulders and helped him into the bathroom. Eliot stripped Nate's pants and button up shirt off before sliding his boxers down his hips. "You all right to stand?"

Nathan nodded and rubbed a hand over his face, still spacey.

Eliot opened the door to the shower, turned on the water, adjusted the temperature, and then stripped off his sweaty workout clothes. He let the water heat as he turned back to Nathan and peeled the bandage off of the stitches. He looked at the wound, glad to see it didn't look like infection was setting in. He pushed Nathan forward slightly, making sure the exit wound looked good as well.

He stepped back in front of the other man, searching his face, trying to gauge how cognizant he was at the moment. "I'm going to get you in the shower but we'll have to avoid undue time under the water. You okay?"

"Yeah, I just feel . . . spacey." He licked his lips and blinked at the harsh light in the bathroom. "My shoulder's really bothering me. I need a something for the pain."

Eliot searched Nate's face, keeping the mask pulled firmly down over his own. "Let's just get you into the shower."

He held onto Nate as he helped him across the threshold and onto the tile floor of the shower. He stepped in behind him and closed the door after him.

Eliot positioned Nate so the warm water hit his head as he squirted shampoo into his hand. He nudged the silent man forward a bit, out of the water's spray and started soaping up his hair.

Nate remained quiet but Eliot could tell that massaging the other man's scalp was making him relax from the way the tension melted from his shoulders and Nate let his head drop back a into the cradle of Eliot's hands.

"Rinse your hair, Nate." He waited until the other man stepped into the water and tilted his head back, good arm going up to rinse the suds away. Then he soaped up his hands and started lathering Nate's body. He ignored it when Nate's body started taking interest in his ministrations, ignored his own body's response.

He quickly lathered Nate up and pushed him under the water, Nate still pliable. He finished rinsing Nathan off and then pushed him to the back of the shower and handed him a towel. "Here, pat your stitches dry, don't rub."

Eliot kept an eye on Nathan to make sure that he followed his instructions and stayed upright on the slick tiles as he quickly washed himself off. He shut the water off and opened the shower door.

Once both he and Nathan were sufficiently dried off and dressed, he steered Nathan to a barstool at the kitchen counter and started making them both some coffee. He watched as Nathan ran a hand over his face. Eliot still wasn't talking, unsure how to breech the subject without losing control of the feelings warring inside of him.

Nathan watched as Eliot banged around the kitchen, sensing the coiled tension within the other man. He licked his lips and rubbed gently at his shoulder. He was confused. He didn't understand what had happened. He just knew he felt like shit, and he knew that Eliot was mad. "You know, I'm not sure what's happened. I know you're mad, Eliot, I get that. I just don't understand what I've done to upset you."

Eliot turned from the microwave with a bowl and plunked it down in front of Nathan. "Eat."

Nathan stared at the Lo Mein, thought about arguing, but the set of Eliot's mouth and his cold stare made him swallow his protests. He picked up his fork and twirled the noodles around it.

Eliot didn't wait for the coffee to finish brewing; he pulled the pot out and shoved his glass under the drip as he poured. After adding some creamer he came to stand in front of Nathan, making sure he actually put the food into his mouth. After he'd drank half the cup and was assured that Nathan had eaten more than a couple bites he sighed. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Nathan forced the bite of noodle down his throat and set his fork down. "I remember getting shot. I remember we were on our way in the ambulance . . ." He trailed off. "Was that today?"

Eliot finished off his coffee and braced his hands on the counter in front of Nathan. "That was yesterday." He turned and poured himself another mug of coffee. Then he turned and looked Nathan in the eye. "I bet you didn't think I knew about your bottle of Jameson between the wall and the headboard."

Nathan swallowed. True, he'd hidden the bottle but it wasn't like Eliot didn't know he drank. It wasn't like he was keeping secrets. "Okay, so you know."

Eliot nodded his head, an angry little smile on his face. "What I can't figure out is how you managed to sneak a drink last night without waking me up. Should've been impossible."

Nathan frowned, started to shake his head but stopped and sucked on his bottom lip as the pain shot down his arm. "Maybe I didn't."

"Oh, you did. Either last night or early this morning." Eliot came around the counter and sat down on the stool facing Nathan. "Then I gave you some pain meds this morning." He paused. "Any of this coming back to you?"

Nate shook his head, trying to figure out where Eliot was going with this.

"You see I check the amount of alcohol you're drinking. I don't usually say anything about it, but I care about you so I figure that gives me the right. After you passed out today I also checked my stash of painkillers." He turned his head and looked at the far wall. "There's two I can't account for, Nate."

Nathan looked at him, could feel the confusion written on his face. "I don't understand."

Eliot looked back at him, the expression of anger replaced by sadness. "Best I can figure, the pain meds didn't knock out the pain so you thought a couple extra couldn't hurt. Probably took them while I was in the shower. Maybe washed them down with a little whiskey. Or, hell, at this point, maybe you blacked out and didn't remember that I'd given you the pain medicine in the first place."

Nathan shook his head and pushed himself off the stool, walked over to the far side of the room before coming back. "I don't . . . I don't remember, Eliot. I wouldn't . . . I didn't mean to take so much. I didn't do it on purpose."

Eliot nodded. "I know. You're smart enough that if this had been on purpose you would've taken more." He stood up off the stool and ran his hands through his hair. Fear getting the best of him. "Christ, Nathan, you could have died!"

Nathan tried to laugh it off, defenses coming back down, closing off the uncertainty and fear that he kept buried. "Eliot, you're overreacting."

"No. No, I'm not." He advanced on Nathan until the other man was backed up against the wall. He put his arms on either side, blocking him from escape. "Damn it, Nate, you've got to be more careful. I care about you, and when you pull stupid shit like this it tears me the fuck apart."

Nathan felt his eyes narrow and he gritted his teeth. "Is this where you tell me you're leaving?"

Eliot felt his lip curl, felt like punching the other man. "We've been through this. I ain't leaving. You can try to push me away all you want, but unless you stand there and actually tell me you want me to leave, I ain't going."

Nathan licked his lips. "It's just a matter of time."

"What do I have to do to convince you?" Eliot stared into those blue eyes. Nate tried so hard to shield what he was thinking and feeling but it was all in his eyes. Eliot licked his own lips and then leaned in to kiss him.

He lapped his tongue over the other man's lips, pulling the bottom one into his mouth and sucking. He let go momentarily before fitting his mouth over Nathan's, lips moving and tongue thrusting.

He pulled away from Nate's mouth and dropped to his knees in front of the other man. Eliot unzipped Nate's trousers and pushed both the pants and the boxers off his hips so that they fell and pooled on the floor around Nate's ankles.

Eliot reached forward and cupped Nathan's balls in his hand, rolling the silky skin gently between his fingers, feeling the fragile firmness of his testicles. He leaned forward and licked Nathan's hardening erection, tongue laving over the smooth skin covering the hardening flesh. He gripped the base and licked at the head, tonguing the slit and tasting the saltiness of Nathan's precum.

Nathan stared down at Eliot, hair loosed around his face, drying into wild mane of tangles. He watched as Eliot blew gently across the tip before closing his mouth over the head, eyes rolling upwards to meet his stare. Nathan swallowed and reminded himself to breathe. Eliot looked feral, crouched in front of him, eyes burning and hair wild.

Eliot slid down him, his mouth a warm heat as he went all the way down. When he reached the base he growled low in his throat and Nathan jerked forward, trying to push deeper into his lover's mouth.

Eliot grabbed Nathan's hips, fingers bruising as he held him still before he sucked his way up Nathan's erection. He went down again, picking up the pace and establishing a rhythm. He reached between Nathan's legs to his ass, slipping a finger in between his cheeks to find the tight ring of muscle. He pushed in a little and felt Nathan's cock jump in his mouth.

He continued to suck him, enjoying the feel of the ridge on the underside of his penis against his tongue. Nathan grunted above him and Eliot felt Nathan's release fill his mouth, warm and salty. He rolled it around his tongue before swallowing him down.

Nathan watched as Eliot licked his lips before standing up. He leaned in to kiss him and Nathan could taste himself on the other man's mouth. He lapped at Eliot lips, trying to get to the taste of the other man through his own.

Eliot cupped Nathan's face in his hands, thumbs rubbing over his stubble, enjoying the taste of him. For the first time in too long he could taste the man instead of the whiskey.

He pulled back, and reached down to adjust himself in his jeans. He wanted to fuck Nathan without the haze of alcohol clouding his mind, wanted to ensure that he would remember their lovemaking fully and not have his senses dulled to his touch.

Eliot grabbed Nathan's good hand and led him to the bedroom. He watched as Nathan climbed into the bed. Eliot stood at the foot and stripped off his clothes, eyeing the naked man on the bed before him. He was still too thin but he was lovely to look at, pale where Eliot was tanned. He loved to look at their contrasting skin tones, loved to watch himself slide in and out of his lover.

He climbed up on the bed between Nathan's legs and reached into the bedside table to pull out the lube. He slicked up his hand while Nathan placed the soles of his feet on the bed, knees bent. Eliot licked the inside of Nathan's thigh as he pried open Nathan's cheeks and ran his finger around the tight ring of muscle.

Nathan pushed his hips down, trying to encourage the other man but Eliot pulled his finger away and started licking the inside of Nathan's thigh again, kissing and biting his way down to where the leg joined Nathan's body.

Nathan groaned and moved his hips, he could feel himself stirring to life once again. "Eliot, stop teasing me."

Eliot lifted his head and smiled down at his lover. He pulled Nathan's balls into his mouth, working them with his tongue as he started rubbing around Nathan's sphincter once again. He dipped his finger in and then pulled it back out.

Nathan let loose a frustrated groan and reached down to work his own cock.

Eliot slapped his hand away and went back to fingering the tight ring of muscle. He slid one finger in and moved it back and forth, smearing the lube. He was so hard. The feeling of Nathan around his finger was incredible. He was so warm and tight. Eliot worked his other finger in, scissoring them, widening Nathan and getting him ready to take all of Eliot's girth.

He paid particular attention to Nathan's prostate gland, enjoying Nathan's groans and the way the muscles clenched down around his hand when he hit the gland. He pulled his hand away and lubed himself up.

Nathan licked his lips, he was panting slightly. He watched as Eliot held him open, teasing at his entrance with the head of his cock. "Fuck, Eliot, are you going to make me beg?"

Eliot pushed against Nathan's ring of muscle, feeling it give and his head slide into the waiting warmth of Nathan's body. He stopped once he had his head in and breathed deeply, fighting to keep still and not just plunge in. He wanted to make this last. Nathan tried to push his hips down onto him but Eliot grabbed his hips, holding him in place.

Beneath him Nathan made a keening sound as Eliot pulled out. He took a breath and pushed forward again this time pushing all the way forward until he was fully encased in Nathan's heat. He leaned forward and kissed the man beneath him, panting hard.

Nathan locked his ankles behind Eliot's hips, trying to pull him deeper inside. He could feel Eliot's balls cradled up against his ass, feel his cock buried so deep inside him. He rotated his hips and Eliot pulled out a little before thrusting back home, enjoying the way Nathan's muscles twitched around him.

Eliot could feel Nathan's growing hardness against his belly and he growled. He bit down on Nathan's good shoulder, drawing a cry from the other man as he pulled out again and plunged.

He stopped biting just before he broke the skin and pushed himself up with his arms, pulling out and slamming into Nathan again. "Fuck, Nate, how do you stay so damn tight?"

Nathan groaned and worked his hips side to side, trying to encourage Eliot into movement. "Please, Eliot, you're killing me."

Eliot pulled back and then slammed home, each time twisting his hips, feeling the way Nathan squirmed beneath him. He fucked in so hard he could feel Nathan's muscles surrounding him quiver in protest, could hear Nathan gasping, grunting beneath him.

Nathan bit his lip as Eliot rammed home, the feel of his dick so deep within him that the burning was just on this side of pain. He could feel the slap of Eliot's balls against his ass, could feel the bruising ferocity with which Eliot's fingertips dug into the skin at his hips.

He watched Eliot move above him, sweaty and wild eyed and never thought he'd looked more beautiful, or dangerous. He could feel the strength of the man who rode him, feel it in each thrust that threatened to spill him over the edge. He grunted as Eliot shifted for a deeper angle and thrust into him particularly hard. He'd never seen Eliot so intense, so ferocious at lovemaking. It hurt, but at the same time he could feel his eyes rolling back in his head and his balls tighten as he came.

Eliot continued to thrust as Nathan clamped down around him, as he cried out beneath him. He kept going, determined to show Nathan that he belonged to him, that he loved him, even if Nathan couldn't take hearing the words. He was going to brand it into his flesh with his lovemaking.

He leaned forward, catching Nathan's mouth with his own, swallowing down his gasps as he continued to pound into him. Finally, it got to be too much and he lost his rhythm. He slammed in one more time, back arching, as he spilled his seed inside the man below him. He gave one more thrust before draping himself over Nathan, panting hard.

He nuzzled into Nathan's neck, placing a small bite over his carotid. Nathan brought his good arm up and ran it down Eliot's back. He was panting himself. "Eliot? You okay?"

Eliot laughed into his neck before rolling off and taking a deep breath. He was hot and sweaty but he didn't care. He pulled Nathan in against him, placing his forehead against Nathan's. "Did I hurt you?"

Nathan shifted a little. His ass burned but it wasn't bad. His shoulder on the other hand was making its presence known. "No. Just, my shoulder hurts. I need something."

Eliot looked at Nathan in the eye before helping him sit up and lean against the headboard. He then slid out of bed and reached behind the headboard to grab the hidden bottle. "Here. You're not getting any more painkillers."

He watched as Nathan put the bottle between his legs and unscrewed it before taking a large gulp, almost choking at the onslaught of burning liquid.

Eliot watched him, eyes sad. "You can't keep doing this, Nate. I could've lost you today. I need you to start taking care of yourself."

Nate took another hit off the bottle before sitting it back down between his legs, staring at the open top. "You can't ask me to quit drinking, Eliot."

Eliot reached over and pulled Nathan's head around catching his mouth in a kiss before putting his forehead against Nathan's, eyes closed. "I know. I'm not. But you need to back off a little."

Eliot turned away, grabbed a Kleenex and started cleaning himself off. "Will you at least try, Nate? Try not to destroy yourself with so much enthusiasm."

Nathan took another hit off the bottle, relaxing a little as he felt his muscles loosening. "I'm not destroying myself. This is not a problem, Eliot. I have complete control over this. This incident happened because of the painkillers. Not because of the alcohol." When Eliot turned and just looked at him he pressed his lips into a thin line. "I can quit anytime I want to."

Eliot turned away and shook his head. "Yeah, whatever."

*The End*


End file.
